


Tell Me Everything

by Colubrina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 08:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20775368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colubrina/pseuds/Colubrina
Summary: When she loses control of her time-turner in her third year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger ends up much further back in the past than she ever expected.





	Tell Me Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShayaLonnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShayaLonnie/gifts).

Hermione was tired, petulant, sulky, and in an all-around bad mood. She’d gotten into it with Ron again about her cat and his stupid rat. She’d come from another class with Professor Lupin and felt the usual weird lurch in her stomach whenever he made eye contact with her, something he seemed to try not to do, and she wanted to talk to someone about it but, between her embarrassing crush on Gilderoy Lockhart the previous year and Ron and Harry’s general prattishness this year, she didn’t have anyone.All this left her in a mood that had her eyeing her time turner as though it were somehow its fault. 

She held it up and regarded in and then gave it a vicious swipe that sent it spinning. She regretted the impulsive gesture as soon as she made it; she knew it was a bad idea. She’d end up back a couple of hours, and that would make this awful day even longer than it already had been. She waited for the mechanism to slow and stop so she could check the time. Maybe she’d just go hide in the back of the library and take a nap until she caught up with herself. 

That excellent plan never happened. Instead of slowing the time turner seemed to pick up speed until it whirled faster and faster and everything was wrong and blurry and jerking, and she looked around her Gryffindor dorm room as it spun and faded and the time turner was still going. She fell to her knees, the chain clutched in one hand and her wand in the other, as nausea overtook her and the time turner was still spinning. She didn’t see it stop because by the time it did she’d folded over on herself and was vomiting out the whole of the contents of her stomach onto slowly stabilizing the stone floor.

“Ewww,” she heard someone say. 

Great. Lavender had come in and found her sicking up.

But when she looked up, she saw a girl she didn’t know who was making a show of holding her nose and another girl with dark red hair who was squatting down and saying, “Are you okay? Where did you come from?” 

She looked up right into Harry’s green eyes.

“I don’t know,” Hermione managed to get out, slipping the chain of the time-turner back around her neck and tucking it into her shirt. “I was in my room, and then everything began to spin, and I was here.” 

“I’m Lily,” the girl said, holding out her hand to help her up. She vanished the vomit with a flick of her wand and gave the nose-holding girl a quelling look before she added, “Let me walk you to the Infirmary.”

On the way to the Infirmary Hermione, who still felt like she’d come off the world carnival ride ever and right after eating too many sweets at that, learned that Lily Evans was a third-year student. She was a Muggle-born. She loved Hogwarts, and Potions was her favorite class. 

Hermione managed not to break into hysterics. She managed not to ask what the girl thought of one James Potter. She managed just to nod and smile, and when the girl dropped her off, promising to return to check on her later, Hermione sank onto the cot in the Infirmary, felt the time-turner whose fault this absolute was pull on her neck, and buried her face in her hands. There was no way to go forward. Professor McGonagall and the Unspeakable who’d trusted her with the time-turner had made that absolutely clear. You could go back, but you had to live those hours again. It was a one-way trip. She was in Hogwarts when Harry Potter’s parents were thirteen-years-old, and she was stuck here. 

She considered going to Headmaster Dumbledore and then dismissed that idea. He’d set them on quests involving killer, giant dogs, into the not-all-that-Forbidden-after-all Forest and left Harry in a basket on a doorstep. She didn’t think he’d be all that helpful.

Professor McGonagall arrived after she’d been in the Infirmary about an hour. Apparently, the Gryffindor who’d appeared from nowhere had become her problem. She briskly confiscated the time turner, tsked, and promised to find Hermione a place to stay over the summers. She asked Hermione a few questions about her own time and Hermione began to answer only to realize everything had gone fuzzy. The world she knew, everything she knew, was fading away like a dream.

“I don’t remember,” she said, horrified. She knew there was something absolutely important she had to tell this woman. Something crucial. But the harder she tried to grab at it, the more it eluded her. Everything eluded her, and she began to cry. Her shoulders shook, and her body shook, and she collapsed in on itself as she realized she’d somehow gone back into the time of… someone. Who? She knew that girl, Lily. She knew all about her.She knew her eyes. They were someone’s eyes, but whose?

McGonagall patted her on the shoulder. “Probably a side effect of going back too far. I can’t believe someone was so irresponsible as to give one of these to a third-year. If I knew who it was, I’d have a few things to say to them.” She stood to go. “You rest now, Miss Granger. We’ll get you settled in in no time. In the meanwhile, I’ll send Miss Evans in with your dinner. She’s got a crew of hoodlum friends, and they’ll cheer you up.”

Hermione smiled a watery smile at the woman and tried to brace herself and cut off her ridiculous emotional display. So what if she was alone in the world, couldn’t remember anything personal about her own time, and had a pounding headache. None of that was a reason to cry. She was British. She was a British witch, and she had this.

She lay down and closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Lily Evans was back, this time with four boys in tow. That seemed familiar. Hermione shook her head and smiled her thanks as the girl set a tray down. “It should be the prefect’s job,” Lily said, “but I figured you’d rather see a familiar face.”

“Plus she’s the nicest person alive,” said a boy with messy dark hair who was passing a Snitch from one hand to the other. 

“Shut it, Potter,” she snapped, without turning to look at him. “Toerag. No one asked you.”

Another boy, with long dark hair that obscured his eyes and a sulky mouth, laughed. “If you hate him so much, go suck up to Snivellus,” he suggested. “I’m sure he’d be happy for your company.”

“Severus is good friend,” Lily said. “And you should be nicer, Sirius.”

“Probably,” this Sirius admitted. “But I won’t be.”

Lily sighed. “Hermione, meet some of the Gryffindor crew in our year. James Potter is the one who’s trying to impress you with how well he handles his balls.” 

Sirius sniggered.

“Sirius is the prat.”

Sirius pushed his hair out of his eyes and made an elaborate bow in her direction. “Any project of Lily’s is a friend of ours,” he said. He smirked a moment before he added, “Except Snivellus.”

“Who’s Snivellus?” Hermione asked.

“Severus Snape,” James said with obvious disgust. “He’s gross. Stuck on himself, never bathes — “

“He’s my friend,” Lily said firmly. “And if you want to be too, you’ll cut it out.” James closed his mouth and became fascinated with his Snitch. Lily waved toward a slightly pudgy boy half-hiding behind Sirius. “The shy one is Peter.” 

Peter raised a hand and hesitantly waved at her.

Hermione turned her attention to the fourth boy and felt her stomach lurch and was afraid she was going to be sick again. He was small and thin, with mousy brown hair and a small smile that quirked up when he saw her and then disappeared as a look of consternation came over his face.

“And that’s Remus,” Lily said. She sounded both less sure about this one and more defensive, as though she expected Hermione to somehow recoil from the slight boy and was prepared to go to war on his behalf. 

“Hi,” Hermione said shyly.

“Hi,” Remus said. He rubbed his hands on his trousers as if he were nervous and gulped as he stared and stared at Hermione. She stared back, her stomach doing flip-flops as she felt something click into place somewhere deep within her and a voice whispered in her head, “So this is why the time-turner went crazy.”

“Merlin, Moony, I’ve never seen you stare at a girl like that before,” Sirius said with a low whistle. “Have we finally found your type? Who knew you went for the mysterious, vomiting ones.”

“Shut it, Black,” James and Lily said in unison, and Sirius Black laughed, but he sounded a trifle uneasy rather than amused. 

“I’ll sit with her,” Remus offered. Sirius looked like he might say something else, but Lily glared at him, and he shut his mouth. The others filed out, turning to give worried looks to the girl on the bed and their friend as he pulled a chair up and said, “So, tell me about yourself.” He took a deep breath. “Tell me everything.”

There wasn’t much to tell. His eyes widened and grew soft with sympathy as she explained how she’d forgotten so much. She wasn’t sure when he took her hand, maybe it was sometime after he’d pulled the tray away and set it on the empty cot next to them. She only knew she never wanted him to let go. She told him everything. He told her he’d been ill a lot as a child, that he hadn’t thought he’d be allowed to come to Hogwarts, that the people she’d met were the first friends he’d ever had. Sometime in that conversation, he joined her on the cot, and she ran her fingers through his curls, and he closed his eyes as if her touch burned him and as if he never wanted her to stop.

Well, she felt the same way.

It was dark and probably long past curfew when he said, sounding like he was terrified, “There’s something you need to know. About me. Something bad.”

She shook her head. “There couldn’t be anything bad about you.” She wasn’t sure how she knew this, only that she did. “You’d never hurt anyone. Never take advantage of anyone. You’d let yourself suffer to prevent that.”

He gulped. Then he told her.

She looked out the window at the tiny, crescent moon.

“So that’s why ‘Moony,’” she said at last as he tensed beside her. “That sounds interesting. Tell me everything.”

So he did.


End file.
